


Be My Baby.

by 1800areyouslapping



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Forced DD/LG, Forced MM/LG, MM/LG, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Yandere!Ashe, Yandere!McCree, dd/lg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1800areyouslapping/pseuds/1800areyouslapping
Summary: Yandere!Ashe and Yandere!McCree kidnapped you together, something that came from convenience, coincidence, and bad luck. They 'take care' of you sometimes together, but more often than not, it's apart. McCree and Ashe don't really get along, and if there is anything that can always make them bicker-- it's you. Forced DD/LG, MM/LG.





	Be My Baby.

“Oh, uh, – _Honey Bun_?” Ashe drawls, real slow and real salty. “Looks like your pilot light is out.” 

Ashe wasn’t the one trying to cook, but Bob was. He happily took his leave when he was told to do so. Went and took a seat in the middle of the living room floor, watching the news. If you were allowed you could go and sit with him. You could convince Bob to let you watch cartoons, something you’d much rather be doing that right now. 

The alleged broken stove and the little house all four of you are within belongs to McCree. Ashe and Bob aren’t exactly welcome, but since Ashe isn’t above blackmail, she requires McCree let her see you during the holiday seasons. Lest she tips off the authorities... Hello? 911? Yes, she knows exactly where that one young woman disappeared to. The one that’s been missing for years? Ashe’s sure her parents miss her. Yes, she can give an excellent description of the girl and her kidnapper, she can give a location too. 

She takes an elegant step back as McCree stands from the kitchen table. He’d been keeping an arm around you like a steel wall meant to keep everyone out, but most especially the current leader of Deadlock. Boring a dangerous stare into Ashe that would make any normal man or woman wither and back out, he squats in front of the stove. Reaches in and inspects the aforementioned no-good pilot light. 

McCree huffs as he places his elbows on his knees, cranes his neck to look at Ashe– his ex-partner from way back and with a little connection between the two sitting timidly at the kitchen table –big doe eyes flitting between ‘Ma’ and ‘Pa’ (they won’t have you calling them anything else). Tension causes rigidness in your hunched shoulders, and breathing that’s going far too fast for a person who’s sitting perfectly still. There’s a lot of tension between them– a tension that could go nuclear at any moment. Even Bob, who’s both paying attention and not paying attention, is ready to snatch you up and ready to take you to safety the moment Ashe gives the word. 

“It was working just fine before you got here– _Babycakes,_ ” McCree says as he stands, slowly. Raising his chin looking down on her. You spot the simmer behind his eyes, one that certainly makes you wither. And if you know mama, McCree has every right to be suspicious. 

Ashe shrugs, all nonchalant. “Don’t know what to tell ya… _Sugar Foot_ ,” she says with a Cheshire grin, and a mean hand on a round hip. “Can’t have a holiday dinner without a fucking pilot light, now can we?” 

The adrenaline within your blood spikes at the curse and McCree’s hind starts to bristle. He takes one careful step forward, leans in so he’s just shy of being nose to nose with Ashe. “I’ll go get a new one.” His face twists into a plane of nothing but malice and hostility. “If I come back,” he points to you, “and that pretty little girl’s rear end ain’t right where it’s supposed to be, I’ma find you– _Darling Heart_ –and I’ma scalp you in front of our baby girl, understand?” 

Bob’s gears whirr as he’s suddenly outwardly paying attention, looking back over his shoulder with his metal sculpted eyebrows pulled together. Ashe’s fists ball up, her teeth set into a grind. Her chest heaves and she forces a deadly smile… 

“…Got it, Suga’ Bean.” 

McCree reluctantly pushes himself away from the stove. Gives you a long frim kiss on the forehead and whispers a warning in your ear, “Don’t you let her get in your head, Baby.” He shoots Ashe another warning look as well as a verbal one. “Won’t be long, that’s a promise– keep your eyes on her and your hands off.” 

Ashe grins. “Sure thing, drive careful now,” she says. “Hate for you to get into an accident.” 

They could go on and on forever. McCree’ll tell her he ain’t going to die, not so long as you’re on this earth. And Ashe’ll tell him that sounds a whole lot like a challenge to her. So he bites his tongue and gets going. As soon as McCree is out the door, and that door is sufficiently locked Mama is sliding into the chair next to you. She grabs the back of your neck so fiercely it causes your tense muscles to ache. 

“Baby Girl, how are you?” she asks, taking a hold of your chin and turning it from side to side, examining every last angle and surface of it. “Has he been mistreating you, Honey?” She tugs at your collar looking inside, flips up your dress taking a brief examination of your legs. “Y’know you can tell me if he has,” she leans in close to you, lips hovering just over yours, “I’ll kill ‘em, you know I will, you can tell mommy anything.” 

You shake your head, fast. “Mama, no, you promised.” 

“I know, I know.” She gropes and rubs your bare thigh, from the crook just next to your crotch all the way to your knee. Nice and slow. Contrary to how fast she is talking. Her hands feel soothing, soft, giving you nipple raising shivers. “I know… I– _we_ –promised… no violence, but Honey, I got to know if you’re okay here.” 

“He ain’t mistreating me, Mama.” 

“Are you absolutely certain?” she says, her hand rushing up the inside of your thigh, cupping your crotch tightly. Her fingers push up against your underwear, finding your tight hole and her thumb finds your pulsing nub. She rubs circles on both, slow and steady. Before you can really think about it, your thighs are parting making room for whatever she wills to do down between your legs. 

She knows the perfect pace to set, just the right angle to press down and focus on. Coos about how cute you look in your puffy little holiday dress, how much she’s missed her baby girl. It doesn’t take long at all for your thighs to tense up and your breaths to become short and labored. Just before your about to fall over the edge, she pulls away. Leaving your mouth agape in disappointment, and your tummy twitching from the abrupt lack of stimulation. 

“Daddy can’t get you there that fast, now can he?” she breaths out feverishly against your ear. 

She dances her fingers, the ones just under your dress, right in front of your face before she cups your cheek, and pulls you in for a rough kiss. She kisses each lip individually, longingly. Ashe’s lipstick’s familiar; tastes just like candy and smells like flowers. Her teeth are strong and they hurt whenever she bites– though you kind of like the pain, and wish she’d keep doing it; it makes your clit surge and your pussy clench so tight you jump out of your seat a little. 

She shoves her hand back between your legs, this time slipping into your wet panties. Ashe slips two slender, soft digits between your inner folds, scoops up your arousal and rubs it all over your clit. Picking up right where she had left off and it’s agony the moment that she starts up. 

You throw your arms around her neck, clinging to her desperately; so close to cumming, and terribly frightened that pa might come back through that door at any moment. If he sees this, your day will be spent either getting thrown back and forth between them, exhausted and raw. Used up and having cum so many times that you’re wishing they’d take into consideration your fatigue and your comfort instead of their possessive fueled pride for once. Or... depending on his mood, the day might be spent ducking from a barrage of deadly bullets, and firebombs, and harshly thrown words… 

“…Oh… ma…” you whimper. 

“Mommy, honey… _mommy_ ,” she croons. “You know what I like to hear.”

“Mommy, Mommy,” you moan between heavy breaths. “Daddy’s gonna be so mad.” 

She couldn’t give a care. She’s focused and an expert at edging you. Pausing and pulling away at just the right times, and just the right amount of time before she gives you back all the stimulation, faster and harder to bear as she goes. A telling ragged intake of breath from you and she pulls away again. Your legs are twitching, back arching trying not to cum without her touch, that’d be the most pitiful end to this. 

“Mommy, please,” you beg, “he’ll be back anytime now. Mommy– _please_ , you promised, no fighting.” 

She shakes her head passionately, grabs ahold of your hips, hoists you up and has you straddle her thigh. “Grind on me, Sugar,” she says, so you do. You hold onto her slender waist. Give her an aghast look, as if this is the first time you’ve ever done this. You eye her breasts with lust, suddenly with a mighty need. A strong and primal need to latch your mouth onto one and suckle, like a craving for something essential you haven’t had in so long. 

“Oh~,” Ashe practically sings, coupled with a high pitched whistle. “Well, I’ll be, you want some’a Mommy’s milk, baby? You miss it?” 

You nod. 

“Come with me,” she says, grabbing ahold of your neck at it’s highest point just under your chin. “Cooperate with Mommy, and you can have as much as you want.” 

Such a mean mommy, she pushes you away. Your hips stutter to a stop and you whine like a child two seconds away from throwing a tantrum. Like she’s taking your heart out when she pushes your hips up and away from her strong thigh. You hang your head, hiccuping a cry. Clit so sensitive and throbbing so strongly it feels like your legs are being sapped of all their strength. You lay on your thickest pout, but Ashe isn’t having any of it. 

“Answer me,” she says squeezing the meaty part of your ass. “I need to know if you’re gonna work with me or if I’m gonna have to have Bob subdue ya.” 

Your eyes blow wide and teary. “Ma!” you gasp, dramatically. “What you mean by that second one?” You gasp again, realizing she’s not planning on keeping her promise. “Don’t tell me you’re planning something bad.” 

You both hear the lock on the front door start to work itself open at the same time. You leap off of her thigh and back into your chair, and she leaps up off the chair taking her place over at the sink. She turns on the faucet and washes her hands with dish soap, grimacing at how dry the stuff makes her hands feel. She has to endure it, McCree’ll sniff your scent out on her like a bloodhound.

McCree stomps inside, shaking off rain and putting up his hat. “Baby?” he says from the hall. 

“Yeah, Daddy?” you say, knowing he just wants to hear your voice. 

He walks in carrying a small box in his hand. He tosses it over to Ashe without warning and she catches it, no problem. “Thanks~” she croons. 

“You’re welcome,” he shoots back.

McCree sits down next to you, just where Ashe was a moment ago. He throws his arm around your shoulder and whispers in your ear, “Can Daddy get a kiss?” 

Of course he can. Instinct has you craning your neck and puckering up your lips before Ashe realizes what a mistake it was for you to freely offer them up without thoroughly whipping them clean first… 

…McCree pulls back, face pulled into a scowl as he tastes what’s on your lips. He looks at Ashe, and Ashe already knows that he knows she was putting her hands and her lips on his things. 

Anger blossoms bright and red on his cheeks and his neck. “Daddy? Daddy, please don’t be mad!” you beg, trying to qualm the rage welling up inside him with a sweet smile, two arms wrapped around his face, and cute kisses on his cheeks. 

You can’t say much else before McCree’s launching himself up from his seat and carelessly throwing you down over the table. He keeps unwavering eye contact with Ashe as he throws up your dress and tugs your panties down to your knees. “Nothing pisses me off more than you,” he spits at her. He swings his hand in between your legs, both spanking and palming your sex. You gasp back arching, standing on your tippy toes for a moment. 

“She touch you here, Angel?” McCree asks, rubbing the flat of his big, rude, calloused palm into your aching hole. You do nothing but whine and whimper, trying to hide your face away from him. So he rears up his prosthetic hand and spanks you hard. You yelp as your hips jump up off the table. “Don’t you lie to me,” he demands. 

You stutter out a: “Y-yes! She-she touched me…” 

“She have permission to do that?” he asks, keeping Ashe’s fiery line of sight as he unbuckles his belt and pull out his weighty hardon. 

“No,” you whine. “She didn’t…” 

“That’s right,” he says a matter of factly, “she didn’t.” 

Suddenly his bulbous head is splitting you open, stretching your folds far apart, making your puffy cunt look even juicier. You moan out longingly at the abrupt fill. You were, by no means, dry; Ashe had made sure you were left plenty wet. But there’s just no preparing to take a size like McCree all in one go. His rough thrust punched the air from your lungs, the muscles in your thighs seize up. He digs his fingers into your hips as he pulls them back onto his length over and over. All you can do is lay there; limply getting fucked like a ragdoll, and try to weakly claw for purchase along the surface of the old wooden table. 

In little time your sobbing out through your orgasm, toes curling, arms thrown over your face hiding your anguished O-face. Too zoned out to remember to call out either of their names. Just twitching and shivering as he’s not nearly done with you yet. McCree keeps using you as a living fleshlight, paying no mind to your oversensitive, wailing cries. After some time, he comes to a still. Growls and drives himself balls deep as his warmth floods your sore insides. You feel now that you can finally breathe, laying there just trying to catch it while McCree and Ashe have a staring showdown. 

“Are you done?” she asks.

“Depends,” McCree says through labored breath. “You done playing games?” 

She shrugs. “For right now, yeah.” 

“Alright then,” he says. “How about you be nice for once and cook us some dinner.” 

The look in her eyes says her priorities are far away from getting food on the table. “Bob? We got here a working pilot light. Get dinner started, would you?”

Bob who had been silently observing the odd things humans like to do, gets up and works on dinner. Ashe and McCree sling insults back and forth. Getting into arguments you’ve heard them hash out time and time again. Talk at each other, rather than to. And miraculously manage to talk somewhat cordially when your welfare gets brought into the discussion. Ashe promises she brought you lots of presents, and can’t wait to see you open them up. McCree promises that each one of those presents are to be thoroughly checked for bugs and cameras, but he’s tickled she thought to spoil you. 

By the time dinner rolls around Bob’s snuck you two freshly baked cookies but you’re still hungry. Bob makes plates and sets them down in front of each of you. You look at your plate and droop your shoulders, disappointed. Look at McCree with glassy puppy dog eyes. “Daddy?” you ask, he gives you his attention, you point at the plate, “can you cut it?” 

“Yeah,” he says in a cheery tone. “I think I can do that for you.” He moves his plate to the side and cuts up your portions. Bob places a mug of hot whiskey, mixed only with honey and lemon juice, down next to his plate while he does so. He has one for Ashe and even you. Once your plate is given back dinner goes smoothly, too smoothly. 

McCree eats one plate full and asks for another, finishes his drink too and also wants seconds on that. Ashe pokes at her food and stares at you more than she eats or drinks, eyes Bob as he mixes up McCree’s next drink. Your attention is pulled towards the holiday movie starting up in the living room, one of those stop-motion classics you love. The hot whiskey’s starting to make your body tingle, and you wonder if daddy would let you have another one. 

Ashe slowly and very deliberately pushes herself away from the kitchen table, chair screeching across the floor. McCree glares at her as she starts to saunter her way over to you. 

“No touching,” McCree growls. 

“Oh, please,” Ashe says. She stands behind you, wraps her arms around your neck from behind. Leans forwards so that her face is beside yours. Ashe kisses your cheek and then nibbles shell of your ear. It tickles so you giggle and look at McCree sweetly. You hope your bitten bottom lip might convince him to let you and mommy play a little. Ashe looks at McCree too, not sweetly at all. “I know you like to watch. Don’t you, Daddy?” 

Ashe turns your face so she can kiss you. Much messier this time, she lavishes your lips with her tongue. Moans into your mouth. You’re still aching from your earlier punishment, leaking McCree’s cum into your panties. But still, you throb deep down the more she grasps your face. 

Out of nowhere, he slams his hand down on the table, but not for the reason you initially thought. Both you and Ashe snap to his attention. He sways in his chair, shaking with anger. 

“What’d you do to me, Woman?” he asks Ashe through clenched teeth. 

She grins evilly. “It’s not what I did you,” she says, points to Bob. “It’s what he did to you.” (On Ashe’s order, of course, Bob slipped something strong into McCree’s drink.) 

McCree starts breathing heavily, struggles immensely to stand. And when he does it’s like he’s a newborn foal, wobbling and shaking on his long legs. He throws a searing look at Ashe before he collapses and falls to the floor. “You better hope I never find you,” and he’s out. 

“Oh my God,” you squeak. “Mommy you killed him!” 

“Shh,” she coos in your ear. “He’s just in the deep sleep. You remember the deep sleep, don’t you, Sweetheart?” 

You do. 

“Though,” she says as she skips over to McCree, poking him in the side with her foot. “It’d be so easy right now wouldn’t it?” She reaches into her pocket and whips out a switchblade, opens it and presses the tip against his jugular. Your heart races at a million miles an hour. Even Bob steps forward poised to stop her. She pulls the blade away, looks back at you. “Between you and me, Honey? I’m not ready to get rid of him yet. I quite like these games we play.” She winks at you as she stands and heads into your bedroom to pack your bags. 

Bob picks McCree up off the floor and lays him out on the couch. Puts a pillow under his head and throws a blanket over his body. You bounce in your seat as you become increasingly nervous. Ashe leans out of your bedroom door holding a stuffed animal. “This one’s still your fave, right?” You nod, it is. “Perfect,” she drawls. “I’m almost done packing. Just sit tight, Baby.” 

By the time she comes back out, she has your backpack and two duffle bags full of stuff. Bob takes it all easily in one arm and reaches for you with his other. You shake your head at him, real panic welling up out of nowhere. “Mommy I can’t leave, I can’t, I can’t! I don’t have permission! I’ll get in trouble!” 

Ashe quickly squats down in front of you and takes your hands. “Mommy’s giving you permission to leave, it’s alright.” 

“Daddy told me to never go with you, or anyone else.” 

She squeezes your hands just a little too tight. “He’s just jealous,” she whispers with malice. “He’ll never love you as much as me.” She reaches for McCree’s cup, still steaming and half full. “Take a sip of this,” she says, offering you the cup. “Just a little. Enough to help you calm down. You’ll feel better, promise.” 

You take the cup, feeling as if you don’t have a choice. Take down two gulps and as soon as the liquid hits your stomach you feel the relaxation hit. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with Ashe, it’s just that you really, really don’t want to end up on McCree’s bad side. 

“That’s a good girl.” She pinches your cheek and gives Bob the go-ahead to scoop you up. “You’re in Mommy’s custody now.” 


End file.
